Lily Allen or Miley Cyrus: who's the bigger feminist?

Lily Allen's misogyny-skewering new song Hard Out Here strikes at the heart of
a debate about feminism in the world of pop, says Bernadette McNulty

Lily Allen was criticised last year for depicting black women "twerking" - or dancing in a sexually provocative manner - in her video for Hard Out Here, which she claimed was a satire on sexism in the rest of the industry.

Definitions of feminism and who it can apply to are currently stirring up a hornet’s nest of emotion in the world of pop music.

Chief provocateur is, of course, 21-year-old singer Miley Cyrus. The former Disney star was doing the promotional rounds at Radio 1 on Tuesday and in an interview for Newsbeat declared: “I feel like I’m one of the biggest feminists in the world because I tell women to not be scared of anything.” Cyrus’s argument seemed to be that by being naked and sexy she was empowering women to not feel ashamed of their bodies or their desires, a philosophy espoused by everyone from Britney Spears to Rihanna.

Simultaneously, however, British singer Lily Allen released her comeback song, Hard Out Here, that seems to skewer not just Cyrus and her notorious MTV awards co-performer Robin Thicke but perhaps every priapic pop video of the past five years as enemies of the cause. Singing about her refusal to lose weight after the birth of her two children, she mocks both the trends for twerking and autotuned vocals as well as Thicke’s boasts about his manly attributes in his Blurred Lines video with her own set of balloons spelling out "I have a baggy vagina" (or words to that effect).

Allen’s return, whatever she has to say, is always more than welcome. She has a gift for speaking truth to power in direct, acerbic, funny lyrics wrapped-up incongruously in a sweet voice and catchy tunes. She’s like a modern version of music hall queens such as Marie Lloyd who took popular ditties of the day and filled them with their own ribald, irreverent commentary.

I’m not sure it is quite a direct hit on Cyrus though, or that it is meant to be. Allen’s main target in the video seems to be the shadowy men controlling the world of pop, pressurising women to sexualise themselves in return for success. When it comes to what might be driving Cyrus, however, I don’t get the impression that anyone else is orchestrating her extreme videos and performances.

In her interview with Radio 1 presenter Fearne Cotton yesterday the American referred to work, working and money repeatedly. If anything Cyrus strikes me as a natural show-off driven by the fierce ambition that made her first a child star and is now making her determined to redefine her image – and sell as many records as possible – in the most eye-catching way possible.

Her theory is that by getting raunchy, she is making audiences stop long enough to listen. And she’s probably right. By implication she is also saying that former wholesome image of her as Hannah Montana was artificial and that this exaggerated projection of her more adult nature is more truthful.

That’s how I think Cyrus and stars like Rihanna and Britney define feminism – as a kind of knowing libertarianism. By shaving her hair or wearing DM’s with her thong, Cyrus is flagging-up her more independent edginess compared to the traditionally feminine images presented by the likes of Beyonce or Taylor Swift – both who have refused to declare any allegiance to the F word.

Miley Cyrus in the video for her Wrecking Ball single

But Cyrus’s naked body is still gym-honed, waxed to exacting and rigorously standardised requirements and presented to provoke desire. At the end of the day she is upholding the narrow, conservative and porn-industry compliant definitions of what women should look like and how they should express their sexuality.

It’s the kind of twisted thinking that Ariel Levy exposed in her book Raunch Culture more than eight years ago. No matter how independent Miley Cyrus and Rihanna think they are, their shock tactic video war is less likely to empower women than raise the stakes to an impossible level in how far a female performer has to go in order to get attention.

Allen’s redress may not be perfect. She seems to be attacking a lot of targets at once and not all of them add up. But the most important thing she appreciates is that the devil often has the best tunes, and what makes her song rise above prankster parodists like Weird Al Jankovic is the quality of her music. In intention, Hard Out Here could easily have been the kind of thing French and Saunders did in their prime or the musical skit that came at the end of the comedy show Smack the Pony but in Allen’s hands it is given a more seductive and powerful pop sheen which takes it right into the heart of the debate.

Misogyny in pop music is only one of the fronts where feminism has a fight on its hands. It can seem superficial when compared to areas such as conviction rates for rape and sexual assault, equal pay, affordable childcare provision and female genital mutilation.

In many ways, the increasingly salacious nature of music videos reflects a still male-dominated industry with its back against the wall, fighting to survive and doing whatever is in its power to get people’s attention and so, more than happy to facilitate the wrecklessly young and ambitious like Miley Cyrus.

But it is also the perfect forum for populist mischief-makers like Lily Allen who can do more to start a debate than any writer and politician. For that, pop itself should not be censured but celebrated.